He'd be the first to admit that he hadn't really reacted to the knowledge that Emma's deepest scars had been carved because of his connection to The Dark One so very well.

Still there'd been something to say for the muzzy haze the drink had placed over his mind, the one blissful chance to forget entirely who he was and then…

…then he'd gotten angry and irrational and oh so desperate to prove that, actually, he'd been mistaken.

That somehow he'd fitted all the clues together in an illogical manner and all the stuff with the books had just been August being August.

Of course his life being what it was that hadn't proved the case and, half sober, he'd bled out the last of the truth from his so called friend…

…been confronted the reality that he'd been betrayed by the one of the two people he'd ever allowed himself to trust and for what?

So that the damned puppet could play at the hero, reunite him with Emma…with Henry…and claim it duty done.

He'd had enough of being pawn and excuse, enough of other's pushing his life about for their own needs.

He was ceasing control of his own god damned life, thank you very much, and right now the consequences of it all could be damned.

Getting the hat had proved so very easy for a well seasoned petty thief such as himself and a quiet little word with Blue had secured not only the fairy dust he'd need for the trip, but also the assurance that, with a little bit of twisting, he wasn't walking himself into a time paradox.

There was one last thing to do before he went, however, one last burning issue that needed addressing before 'the plunge' so he shaves, gets himself looking as presentable as he is able in his travel clothes, says goodbye to August, then walks the short distance to the pawn shop.

The bell draws The Dark One from what looks to be a rigorous session of bookkeeping and, instantly, he's but a boy again.

August had warned him, of course, long before everything else had come to crowd the information out of his head and, honestly, even before that it'd never really taken rout…had been little more than a barely touched on aside until seeing it with his own eyes had carved it deep into his very soul.

Still as The Dark One's smile twists up his papa's face he feels again sturdier and, taking breath, he states simply, "I only ever wanted you as you, it didn't matter to me that you were lame or that other's called you a coward, all that mattered was that you loved me enough to stay…that you were brave enough to face everyone else's disgust and pity for my sake." It's only a fraction of what he has want to say, the smallest leaching of all the pain and yet, in the circumstances, it's more than enough to be going on with.

The Dark One lingers a mere moment more and then his papa is there, rounding the counter and pulling him tight into his arms,

"My boy…my boy…"

In his arms, surrounded the aroma he had known his entire boyhood, that had almost always been a scent of safety and security, he almost relents. Allows himself to be swept into the fiction that all is as it was because that's all he's ever, secretly, ever wished for and yet…

…he catches sight of his face in a mirror, sees well the lines that make the fiction just that and, though it wrenches his heart, he pulls away with a gruff, "No, no longer."

It hurts his father, of course, no matter how The Dark One tries to mask the fact, slices hard into wounds he knows the other has carried a long, long, time. Still he will not regret, will not allow the path he has chosen for himself to be diverted by foolish boyhood fantasies and, pulling the hat from its hiding place within the lining of his coat, he adds, "I'll change that though, make everything the way it should have been."

The frown that appears on his papa's face bolsters his confidence, for it means that his chosen path is enough risk that even The Dark One has never considered it and thus, in turn, never thought to place any traps to derail the whole thing.

That warm thought in mind he steps a little away and, placing the hat onto the floor, begins to spin it.

As the portal forms he can see the panic finally settling in, can see his papa's fear at loosing him again bleeding away the last traces of The Dark One.

So he smiles, informs him, "Don't worry, once I'm done you won't even remember this happened. No one will," before he leaps down, down, into another world…

…another time.

Papa is so frightened of them finding him, so sure that if he goes, fights as he wishes, they will never again see one another.

He knows that papa can not help the fear, that loosing mama had hurt him so deeply…left him so very lonely…so he does not fight back when papa says they are running, risking everything for the chance to be free.

Keeps his fears and want to be brave, to grow enough that papa need not worry so for him, close to his chest.

Still the wish of another way must bleed free somehow for, as he stumbles against a tree rout, he finds himself face to face with a tiny, beautiful, woman dressed all in blue.

"I have come to help you Baelfire."

"You know me?"

"In a sense," A smile, though it is an adult one, full of edges he can not understand in the least, then, "The thing you wish for shall not come quickly or easily, but if you are brave and trust in the goodness there in your father's heart all shall be well."

"What would you have me do?"

"A darkness will come to claim your father very soon and, once it has done as such, you must give him this rose," a wave of a delicate hand and there between them appears the most beautiful rose he has ever seen. "Upon it is a great enchantment which will keep you both held in time and trapped as something other than you are now, an enchantment that will only be broken by true loves kiss."

The thought of the power behind such magic frightens him and yet, as papa's voice calls out in search of him, that fear dissipates at the understanding that, if nothing else, it will insure that they remain together.

So he takes the rose and runs to catch up in order that he might claim the delay thanks to poor night vision and his clumsy feet, might keep the enchantment of the rose as a last resort.

She had no real want to be here, her tomboy nature making her feel un-comfy in the elegant, laced, finery of the dress mama had picked out for her and her warrior's heart making the ballroom feel all too much like a gilded cage.

Still she was to inherit the kingdom one day and there was something to be said for making an impression, to be seen once in a while, rather than hiding always in the forest.

Not that she'd ever admit as such out loud, much preferring mama to believe that she was relenting because she'd been bullied into it, rather than because she knew her to be right. Because, though she loved her parents, respected them for becoming what they were from what they'd been, they really hadn't started accepting that she was a grown adult now and thus capable of making her own choices in life. A battle that she'd long given up fighting head on, much preferring the elation of getting one other them without them knowing she'd done as such, but, in situations such as this one, allowing them to believe her still rebellious teenager was just as much fun, if only for the chance of catching papa rolling his eyes as mama rattled on, rather hypnotically, about what was expected of a 'proper lady.'

The smile that the mental image provokes fades the very instant yet another minor noble comes to request her company in a dance, complimenting her looks in such over arcing, vapid, terms that she wants to scream.

If only Pinocchio were here, she muses as she smiles sugar sweet and cries off on account of a minor dizzy spell or something else of the like, the ex-puppet always found a way to add a little sparkle to the otherwise frankly dull monotony of nights such as this, after all. Still her childhood friend is away right now proffering his father's wears in some of the outlying kingdoms and, like as not, bedding as many women as foolish as to fall for his devil may care smile and roguish manner.

The thought further sours her mood and she's contemplating the task of escaping unnoticed when a semi familiar face catches her eye from across the room.

They've never been introduced, he existing a little outside the sort of circles she tended to be pushed into while at functions such as this, but she knows his story, or at least the many rumours that his story has created over the years and she's seen him often enough in the forest…laughing with Pinocchio when it seems certain he believes them 'alone'…to notice how strangely separated from everything he is.

Always her heart has gone out to him, though she has never felt brave enough to cross the line and actually talk to him…turn him into something more than an object to ignite her imagination.

There is something, perhaps, in the way he looks tonight, or maybe in the state of her own mind, because, the very moment she sees his face she is moving towards him.

Curtsying low and graceful as though it is as much second nature to her as walking, she informs him, "Emma Charming," as though she is someone else entirely and there's little chance of him having the advantage of already knowing her name.

"Baelfire Villeneuve." A gentleman's bow then, mouth twisting into a smile that has her heart pumping just a little faster, he enquires, "So, want me break you out of this place for a while, Princess?"

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"You find me a pair of trousers along the way."

Laughter suits his face well and she finds herself memorising the fact, scrabbling for the few truly funny jokes she knows so that she might, at some point, pull again the expression from him.

"Done," he remarks as he takes her hand in his and begins to run.